


Tails of the Batpets

by batwayneman



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Past Animal Abuse, no nitty gritty details though, these aren't from any particular universe they just exist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 09:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12362835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batwayneman/pseuds/batwayneman
Summary: A collection of shots about the Batpets, and their owners who love them.





	Tails of the Batpets

**Author's Note:**

> This one takes place while Ace has been at the Manor a few months, but is still pretty…feral.

After a night that seemed to have lasted an eternity, Bruce finally turned onto the road that led back to the Manor.

 

Nights that he had to go to Arkham Asylum were always difficult, and attempted breakouts made them so much worse.

 

He had been planning on going to Arkham anyway, because Scarecrow had been bragging to the guards about leftover bombs that he had hidden around the city, and they wanted Batman’s opinion on the validity of his threats.

 

Bruce thought it was much more likely that Crane was just bored and disappointed at being in jail again; especially since he had combed the city for Scarecrow’s bombs himself after the would-be attack a few days ago.

 

But he would still check.

 

And with the holidays coming up, it wouldn't be a bad idea to check in on Mr. Freeze and Calendar Man, while he was there.

 

It was a pure dumb coincidence that Two-Face’s cell was in between the entrance to the asylum and Scarecrow’s cell.

 

“Surprised to see you on this side of the compound,” Two-Face sneered.

 

Bruce just stared at him.

 

“I heard that Joker was planning his big breakout tonight, I thought that you'd be dealing with him.” Harvey’s voice replied. “But if you want to stay and chat…” Now it was Two-Face, leering at Bruce and flipping his coin. He looked down at it “Looks like I got time.”

 

Bruce didn’t always - didn’t often - take the rogues at their words, but Harvey and Two-Face’s long-standing hatred of Joker was enough to start Bruce running back down the hall to the other side of the compound where Joker was kept.

 

He had been halfway there when the alarms started screaming.

 

It hadn't gone as badly as it could have; it was incredibly lucky that Bruce had happened to be at Arkham in the first place. He had stopped Joker before he had even left the facility.

 

But even with him there, Joker had managed to kill three guards, injure four more and practically demolish a main wall before Bruce had caught up with him and put him back in a cell.

 

So ‘not as bad as it could have been’ was by no means a victory, and did nothing to alleviate the guilty writhing in his stomach.

 

Hopefully Joker’s broken nose was hurting more than Bruce's throbbing bruises and the ankle he had tweaked.

 

The cave was quiet when he pulled up and got out of the Batmobile. He had sent Alfred to bed once Arkham had been secured, when it was clear he wasn't seriously injured and that he would be working in the cave late.

 

Bruce had files to write, had to figure out _how_ the Joker had got the materials inside Arkham to attempt a breakout. He would have to track down all the people who had worked with the Joker, and had to talk to Jim and let him know what happened.

 

And he would still have to go _back_ to Arkham tomorrow to check on Scarecrow and the others.

 

He took off the cowl and let it thump on the counter as he put it down, sighing heavily as he threw himself into the chair with more vigour than he usually allowed himself.

 

He hadn’t even started typing when he froze, as the sound of quiet paws got louder.

 

Apparently he wasn’t quite as alone as he had thought.

 

He turned in his chair to look at Ace as she approached from whatever shadowy corner she had been lying in. The German Shepard bared her teeth as she made eye contact with him, but kept skulking closer.

 

Recently she had taken to waiting for him in the cave, and staying there until he returned, before finally finding somewhere in the Manor to sleep, steadfastly refusing to sleep in the bed that Alfred had bought her.

 

Bruce had no idea why she bothered, she never seemed particularly happy to see him, always greeting him with a snarl and a curled lip before sulking away with her crooked tail held tight to her body.

 

She kept coming closer to him in her normal slow, creeping steps. She made quite a sight, between her harsh snarl, raised hackles, and scarred and slightly mangled ear. He kept looking at her with slightly raised eyebrows. 

 

Once she was within a few feet of him she stopped, the front half of the tail that didn’t have nerve damage from her time with Joker was held straight back, and she was still curling her lip.

 

A loud series of barks interrupted the silence of the cave, sending Ace’s drool flying across the ground in front of Bruce.

 

“Is there a problem?” He asked inflectionless.

 

She growled, crouching lower to the floor, ears pinned. With no other warning, she lunged at him, leaping into the air towards his neck, mouth open in a furious snarl.

 

He shoved her, pushing her away from his jugular, and her jaw snapped shut on empty air with a sharp clack. He threw out his hands in front of him, ready to block her if she jumped again. She landed heavily on her feet, bending her legs to keep herself close to the floor, drooling and licking her around her mouth, lips pulled back over her teeth, growling.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” He furrowed his eyebrows tightly. It had been weeks since she had tried to actually attack him, and even then she had been more subtle about it than just ‘rip his throat out’.

 

She didn’t answer, but stayed crouched down.

 

No, not crouched. Cowering, despite the fierce growling and the snarl.

 

He hadn’t pushed her that hard, had only used enough force to stop her from getting to his neck, so why was she looking up at him like she fully expected him to start kicking?

 

Still snarling, she looked back and forth between his hands. He followed her gaze and -

 

Oh.

 

When he had fought Joker, and broken his nose, he had gotten Joker’s blood all over his gauntlets.

 

He pursed his lips together. “I smell like him, huh,” he murmured, lowering his voice, trying to appear as less of a threat. Ace only growled louder at the sound of his voice.

 

Now that he knew what he was looking at, it was easy to see Ace’s aggression for the defensive terror it was.

 

He looks down at the bloodstained gloves, and back at the cowering dog. She took a creeping step backwards, away from him. Her tail was tucked between her legs.

 

“Alright, hang on,” he said, turning the chair slightly away from her and started pulling the gloves off. She stopped growling, but stayed in her defensive crouch, staring suspiciously.

 

He had been meaning to replace these gauntlets soon anyway, he rationalized as he started methodically removing all the wiring in it.

 

Admittedly, giving the bloody gauntlets to the near-rabid dog might not be the wisest decision that he’d made tonight. Maybe it was the frustrations of the bad night at Arkham, at being in the building and still being unable to save the guards anyway. Maybe it’s just having a run in with the Joker in the first place that had him feeling twitchy and impulsive.

 

Maybe he just wanted to see Ace destroy the evidence of Joker on his gauntlets. 

 

It might even be good for her to wreck something that smelled like the person who had hurt her so bad. Therapeutic even.

 

It could also just make her more aggressive, but she’s already tried to kill him once tonight, so it probably can’t get much worse.

 

He finished removing the wiring and moved on to taking out the bits of metal and reinforcements. She seemed to catch on that something different was happening; she was starting to sit up and look over the desk to what he was working on. The growling had stopped, though she still looked immensely distrustful.

 

He turned to look at her as he extracted a stubborn blade - for cutting through veins or ropes should he find himself restrained - and she whined in her throat, more excited now that she had figured she was going to get something instead of being punished. She jumped up, putting her two front legs on the desk, trying to snatch the gloves out of his hand. 

 

“No! No,” he exclaimed, sticking out his elbow to block her, pushing her back off the desk. 

 

“You’re a horrible dog,” he said, deadpan. “Stop trying to kill me.”

 

She wagged her tail in response. He sighed and went back to working on the mess on his desk.

 

The last of the metal came free with a final tug, leaving the bloody gloves completely defenceless. He and Ace both stared at them; her panting her tongue in stress.

 

He wasn’t worried about her being able to get through the material of the gloves; he knew she could. He had a scar on his left arm from when she was still with the Joker, and had bitten straight through the glove to puncture his arm.

 

Picking up the limp gloves, he walked a few feet away, just to separate Ace from the computer and desks and give them more space - if she decided to go after him, he would have more space to deal with it. She walked behind him, too far for him to strike, but close enough to clearly be following him.

 

He paused for a second, but flicked the gloves a few feet in front of him before he could second-guess himself.

 

Ace was on them in a second, lunging so aggressively that she nearly overshot where the gloves had landed. 

 

She grabbed one of the gloves in her mouth and shook it until her face was a blur. With the force of her movement, the glove skittered a few feet away, and she pounced again. Pinning the glove with one paw, she got to ripping it apart with flashing teeth. Once she had a hole to work with, she made frighteningly quick work of shredding the material into pieces.

 

Bruce kicked the other glove closer to her with the side of his foot, and again she lunged at it, holding it down with her paw and shredding it.

 

There was something joyous in her actions; she was flipping the pieces in the air and catching them before pinning them under her paws again.

 

After a few minutes of gnashing teeth and muffled growls, she had a pile of pieces of what used to be his gauntlets between her paws.

 

“Are you finished?” He said, managing to keep a straight face.

 

She met his eyes for a second, before pushing her nose into the pile in front of her with glee, throwing herself back into the remains of the glove with renewed vigour. Bruce sighed, but his mouth twitched up anyway.

 

The sound of footsteps made Bruce turn, though Ace was undeterred in her quest to turn the gloves into confetti.

 

Alfred walked towards them slowly, taking in the scene. He turned to Bruce with a haughtily raised eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

 

They stood side by side quietly for a few minutes; the only sound in the cave of the cave was the dull thrumming of the computers, and the sound of Ace ripping the gloves further.

 

“Thought you were going to sleep.”

 

“I _was_ , but you were taking a long time, so I came to make sure you weren’t bleeding all over the floor.” Alfred left the ‘again’ unspoken. “I hope you have a plan for when she is sick from eating all those little pieces,” he continued dryly.

 

“She’s not eating them,” Bruce protested. The pieces were getting rather ridiculously small, but he hadn’t seen her swallow any of them.

 

Seeming to sense that they were talking about her, Ace stopped moving, glancing between the men in front of her. A large glob of saliva fell from her jaw. 

 

Alfred sighed. “If you wanted to play with her so desperately, I could have pointed you to the actual chew toys. Ones that she can’t turn to stuffing.”

 

Bruce grunted in response.

 

The cave fell into silence, as Ace rested her chin on the pile in front of her.

 

“They smelled like the Joker,” Bruce finally said, by way of explanation.

 

“Ah,” Alfred paused, “I did hope you wouldn't teach this one to cope with feelings through violence, sir.”

 

“Using physical activity to cope can be healthy.”

 

“So the punching bag bill would have me believe,” Alfred replied curtly.

 

Bruce shot him a look, but he was wholly unconcerned.

 

“I believe she is finished,” he added. Ace still staring up at them, using the shredded pieces of gloves as a cushion for her chin.

 

Bruce sighed and ignored Alfred’s mildly amused look as he walked towards Ace. She backed up into a sitting position as he got near, but didn’t otherwise object to his presence.

 

“Did you get him?” Bruce murmured to her as he picked up the soggy, shredded pieces in his arms. “Well done, you were very thorough.” She wagged her tail, and Bruce allowed himself a small smile.

 

He carried pieces to the biohazard disposal, and quickly ducked into the shower room to take off the rest of his suit and change into sweats and a t-shirt.

 

When he returned Ace was sitting proudly next to Alfred at the base of the elevator. Bruce grabbed a laptop from the desk and headed towards them. He could work on the files from upstairs.

 

Again, Alfred raised his eyebrows in smug happiness, which Bruce ignored as he walked up to them. Without saying another word they stepped into the elevator together, Ace sitting between them. 

 

When they reached the top and all separated for the night, Bruce paused to pet Ace between her ears before heading to bed.

 

She didn’t react, not even to wag her tail or look up at him, but she also didn’t shy away from his hands, and that was enough progress for the night.


End file.
